


Peanut Buster

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Drunk and Lonely Will Graham, Gen, Licking, Masturbation, Other, Peanut Butter, Poor Will, Shame, drinking leads to bad ideas, naughty will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is drunk, horny, and lonely.  This leads to experimentation with peanut butter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peanut Buster

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE thank you to trr_rr for beta reading this and encouraging me to post it because I wouldn't have otherwise! 
> 
>  
> 
> No - he doesn't put the peanut butter on his balls or dick - sorry if that's what you came to see lol.

When loneliness gets the best of him and he can't lose himself in a TV show or sleep, Will likes to sink to the floor to be with his dogs; his little scruffy family. They are his world just as much as he is theirs. Fluffy tails excitedly wiggle back and forth as they swarm around him, each wanting his undivided attention. Will pets them all, the pitch of his voice a little higher than normal as he mutters praises softly to them.  
  
  
Then there are nights where a much different sense of loneliness fills him. Tonight feels like one of those nights. His little house feels too big... Too quiet... and dogs aren't much for conversation.

  
  
It isn't long before Will tries to mask the loneliness with whiskey. A small amount of liquid amber fills the bottom of a juice glass and disappears down his throat in one swallow.

  
  
He has an itch that can only be scratched by someone of his own species. And, as much as he enjoys the company of his dogs, there are just some things they can't provide.

  
  
Another round is poured and quickly downed. Alana. If he's not being forced to think about gruesome crime scenes and psychopaths, it's her lately. Her chestnut hair. Her smile. Her penchant for wearing flattering a-line skirts and those knee-high boots.

  
  
Pouring himself a third glass, Will wonders if she wears panties with little flowers on them or maybe lace ones with matching bras. He cradles the glass, swirling the drink pensively as he proceeds to contemplate what color her nipples are. A long exhalation escapes his lungs as he imagines cupping her breasts and eagerly mouthing them. Fuck. If only. He'd be lucky to get another hug from her and feel her tits press against his chest. The realization frustrates him and spurs him to pour yet another drink. He just wants to be touched. The desire weighs more heavily in his mind than usual tonight for whatever reason.

  
  
By the time Will decides he's had enough, the bottle is all but empty, so he figures he might as well finish it off. The bottle nearly smacks him in the face as he clumsily lifts it to his mouth. He's drunk. Not just buzzed, but drunk. Very drunk and very horny, which has always proved to be a winning combination.

  
  
Will falls back onto one of his armchairs and hastily pulls open his pants. He wets his lips as he lets his mind wander and fantasize about Alana while he jerks off. She’s kneeling between his legs with her red lips wrapped around his dick. He thinks that being this horny, it will be over all too soon. However, minutes pass and he can't seem to finish. He tries for awhile longer, but his own hand just isn't enough tonight. He needs something more. 

  
______________________

  
It's not exactly clear if it was ever a 'good' idea. It was just one of those dumb suggestions the brain conjures up. He did try to talk himself out of it at first, but as the urge of wanting to orgasm grew into desperation, his voice of reason fell silent. 

  
He doesn't remember getting up, but Will finds himself in the kitchen, staring into his poorly-stocked pantry. And there it is, the staple of any kitchen, peanut butter. Will grabs the jar and fishes out a spoon from the silverware drawer before making his way back to the living room.

  
  
With a long sigh, Will lays on his bed, holding the jar in his hand. He's never done anything like this. He's always been repulsed by the idea – manipulating a dog to lick peanut butter off someone’s body - but apparently a little (okay, a lot) of alcohol can change one's mind about such things.  He does have a line that he won't cross -- he's not going to rub the peanut butter on his dick or anything.  It's that kind of resolve that makes him believe he's not a complete pervert.  

 

Will works his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor next to the hamper. He can't help but notice his pack of dogs are watching as he unscrews the lid and dips the spoon in the peanut butter. He feels like some kind of deviant as he shakily smears it from the bottom of his rib cage downward in a straight line until he gets to a point below his navel. He then turns his wrist to sweep the remainder across his left hip. Will sucks the rest of the peanut butter off the spoon and reaches over to set it next to the jar.

 

Buster, never a shy little dog, hops up onto the bed with Will. His tail is alert and wagging, as if he knows this is meant for him; like he knows what Will's filthy intentions are. He doesn’t quite know where the scent is coming from at first, but Will can tell when he’s found it. Will holds Buster back out of embarrassment and anticipation, but finally lets his arm fall to let the dog sniff his way towards the irresistible snack. 

  
Will closes his eyes when Buster finds the first warmed smear over his chest and tilts his head down, lapping eagerly, making sure nothing is left behind.  It feels so taboo, but Will focuses on the feeling of the tongue more than the fact that it's his loyal dog doing the licking. Buster's wet nose drags across Will's stomach a frantic search for more, causing Will to twist from the cold sensation. He arches his back and Buster discovers the treasure trove of peanut butter in Will's navel.

  
  
Buster goes into a frenzy lapping at the dollop, causing Will to twitch and moan as the long canine tongue sets aflame previously untapped nerve endings. It tickles, but in his drunken haze it feels pretty damn good, too.

  
  
The purpose of this morally questionable experiment is suddenly remembered and Will snakes his hand down inside his pants. The added foreign stimulation, albeit very odd, feels like it might quench his thirst tonight and he is hard again in seconds. He tries to imagine it’s Alana licking his lower abdomen, but the feeling and picture don't match in his head. 

  
Buster continues down the sugary trail, tongue dragging across Will's skin every which way. The licking is extremely thorough; Will knows he won’t stop until he cleans up every last bit of this rare delicacy. Will feels ashamed that this notion causes arousal to spread in his belly. Even the motion of Will's arm shaking up and down as he works his dick doesn't deter Buster at all.

  
  
Will sets aside his concerns and focuses all of his attention on climbing the peak to orgasm. His heart is pounding; he can feel himself nearing the point of no return when the noise of car door shutting startles him.

 

Will’s stomach turns to ice as he remembers he forgot to call Dr. Lecter to let him know that he cancelled his trip this weekend and wouldn’t need him to feed the dogs after all.

 

 

 

 


End file.
